


A Summoning of Fate.

by Majik



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-14
Updated: 2014-05-22
Packaged: 2018-01-24 19:58:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1615208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Majik/pseuds/Majik
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Belle knew that she had to do it. She had known that since the moment her father had announced in the war room that the ogres were close enough to reach them in three nights time. She wasn't supposed to know.</p>
<p>What her father wasn't supposed to know, though, was that she knew of a way to stop the impending doom. After all, her father always got a little scared when the word magic was mentioned.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Lady in the War Room

**Author's Note:**

> My first fic for this community. Hope you all enjoy it.

She knew she had no choice. She had known that since the moment her father had announced in the war room that the ogres were close enough to reach them in three nights time. She wasn't supposed to know.

The thing is, though, that no one pays attention to their surroundings when they're too busy thinking about things like impending doom. Not that Belle could blame them. These are men of war, men that always think in strategies, in techniques and in a 'which sort of weapon should we use for this'-manner. And the truth is, against ogres, that just won't do.

But she knows she can't change anything about that. Her twenty-two years in this life had made her aware enough of that fact. But that didn't mean she couldn't work around it.

It was about 2 months ago, around the time when the red glow of war and blood had appeared on the horizon, bringing with it the faint metallic scent of blood and death, and the unnatural silence of wildlife fleeing, that she decided that if she wanted to survive this, she would have to rely on something else then the strength of men.

Not that men were unimportant. It was just that they couldn't see when numbers just weren't enough. But Belle didn't choose to look away from the fast dwindling downward number of men, now boys too, on the war front.

And Belle was good at reading.

It had taken her some time to think about what could work on the ogres. Her first thought had been searching for natural weaknesses. Somehow making use of a trick, something cunning. But that idea was quickly shot down when she found out that the only way to stop an ogre was to plant a weapon in their brain. Be it arrow, sword or otherwise.

Then she had thought of magic, even calling upon the ancient Rhuel Gorm. But the Blue Fairy couldn't help, for killing was not something light magic was capable of. Thus Belle went back to the drawing board.

It was only a couple of days later that Belle realized something about what the Blue Fairy had said. 'Light magic'.

Some might have assumed that Belle had already read about magic, in her books. Or heard the rumors about a dangerous imp whispered among men. Or been scared with a night tale of Rumplestiltskin, the stealer of babes, who would steal Belle away if she wasn't a good girl and stayed in her bed at night, instead of sneaking out to go on her little adventures to the library. But the truth was that her father, Maurice, was deadly afraid of magic. Ever since True Love kiss had failed to save her mother.

Belle sometimes thought that even now her father hadn't completely recovered from the loss. But she didn't blame him. After all, she didn't know what it felt like, to lose your one True Love to a mysterious illness.

But she was straying off topic with this. She had to focus now. She knew what she had to do. It had taken her some time to uncover a book about it, but she had. It was simply called: 'The Dark One'. And the bookshop owner had asked her three times if she was sure she wanted it. Of course Belle had said yes, simply shoving her curiousity on the fact that, if he truly didn't want to read it, he shouldn't have reacted so opposed to the idea. After all, even ladies had a hard time resisting their curiousity. 

"At least this one did." The shop owner had relented at last with that sentence and a wink. Saying that, if it was truly his fault that she was so curious, she could have the book free of charge. Little did Belle know that the shop owner had murmured under his breath after she left that he had been planning to burn it anyway, had he not been so afraid of the Dark One's wrath.

Belle had read the whole book that evening. And twice more on the following day. And several more times in the days since. Enough to know one chapter by heart.

'CHAPTER XI. The summoning of the Dark One.

Dear reader.

Let me start this chapter with telling you that this is a bad idea. But, after you've come so far, assuming you have read the rest of the book, I suppose you had already figured out this for yourself. Which only leads me to one possible conclusion: You must be in a really desperate situation to be looking for this sort of help. In that case, may the Gods have mercy on your soul.

I have pieced this together, just like the rest of the chapters, from all the research I've done, for I have had the luck not ever having to encounter the Dark One myself. Though I fear for my safety should he ever discover this book and its origins. 

My point is: I can in no way guarantee that this shall succeed.

But I've taken upon myself to let this information be spread through the written word anyway.

The Preparations:  
A piece of chalk or something else that can be used to draw circles on ground or in loose earth.  
Something with sentimental value.  
A drop of blood of a desperate soul.  
5 candles.  
The Dark One's true name.

Sadly enough, I can't provide you, dear reader, with the last one. For it would be weigh far too heavy on my conscience if I knew that I was the one who gave desperate souls all the information they needed to sign their fates with a deal.

The Ritual:  
Start with drawing a perfect round circle in/on the ground. The diameter doesn't particularly matter, but it needs to be able to fit the item with sentimental value within it.  
Once this is drawn, you ought to draw a pentagon within it, making sure of two things: The point you draw right in front of you must point north, and the five points must hit, but not go outside, the circle. On these points you place your five candles. Do NOT lit them yet.

Once you have done this, you let the drop of blood fall in the middle of the circle, placing the item of sentimental value on top of it.

You then say this:  
'Oh, Dark One, thy who cometh from the Dark.' You now lit the first candle, the one that points north.

'I summon thee in need of thy help'. You know lit the candle to the immediate left of the one already burning.

'For I wish to make a deal' Now, lit the candle to right of the one pointing north.

'Come forth and hear my pleas.' lit the one underneath the left one.

'(Name of The Dark One)'. You know lit the final candle.

If he appears before you now, I can only wish you the best of luck.

May you come out alive.'

It had taken Belle a couple of breaths to calm herself the first time, a part of her fearing that even reading it would cause him to appear. She blamed the rest of the book for it, though. For the whole thing was written by someone who was obviously afraid of the Dark One. It made Belle wonder why he had written it in the first place.

The second thought that calmed her was that if the Dark One had appeared then, she could've dealt sooner. Hopefully sparing more lives in the process. But she knew she had nothing to deal with. And the rest of the book made one thing clear.

Rumplestiltskin never gets the worst out of any deal.

'Rumplestiltskin...' Belle mulled the name over in her head. It had come from nowhere, but somehow, it felt right. Or perhaps Belle had just temporarily forgotten a hushed conversation she passed in the streets of Welpe where someone desperately whispered: 'Please don't tell me you dealt with the Dark One.' Only for the other to reply: 'Of course I didn't summon Rumplestiltskin. Only a fool'd do that.' Though the guilty glance to the left, and the tugging of the sleeve by a shaking hand were clear signs the person probably did.


	2. A deal to be struck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slightly late, I know, but here it finally is: Chapter 2.

Time passed in the war room, as the men were discussing strategies and options, but these men weren’t blind. They knew they had lost the fight. The age of the boys on the battlefield had made that clear enough. No twelve year old should find himself face to face with an ogre.

After a few hours that moved both too fast and too slow, Maurice had had it. They were desperate for a solution, but this was to no avail. Instead of using this time meaningfully, they wasted it on trying to fix something with the same manner of thinking that had broken it. The pang of the loss of time intensified when he was reminded that he only had three nights left. He needed to find another solution... And fast. By the Gods, he couldn’t let Belle suffer this fate.

Blanched with the thought of his daughter at the mercy of an ogre, he dismissed the war council. No one objected. Everyone was eager to go to their loved ones, spent their last days in peace. Or at least, something close enough to it that you could make yourself believe that it was peace.

As soon as the council was out of the door, Maurice slumped in his chair, resting his head in his hands, trying to subdue the tears that were threatening to fall. That’s when he heard something he recognized immediately.

Although he and Belle didn’t have the best of relations, he had raised her, and when he heard a thoughtful ‘hmm’ he immediately recognized that it was typically Belle’s. To be honest, he doubted that she even realized that she made that sound. He looked up, and for a reason he couldn’t quite pinpoint, he wasn’t even that surprised to find Belle here. She had a way of always being where you didn’t want her.

A look around showed him where Belle had been hiding, and he had to smile. Of course his daughter knew it was smartest to hide in plain sight. She sat in a chair close to the fire, clearly visible from the table of the war council, with a book in her hand, but it was obvious she wasn’t reading it. She had heard, then. Maurice didn’t know if he wanted to smile or frown at that. She didn’t deserve to find out this way, but it spared him having to tell her. He decided he would just take it as it is, he couldn’t change it anymore anyway.

Maurice walked towards her, his gait only halted by the pang in his heart that told him he hadn’t much time left with her. He didn’t know if he could handle seeing her tears at that truth. When she realized there was nothing left to do.

"Belle," He started. But Belle was still too far lost in thoughts to notice a thing. A tentative hand was thus placed upon her shoulder.

"Belle," Her father started again. This time, Belle blinked slowly, and looked up at her father. Her eyebrows only faintly furrowing in confusion before she remembered where she was.

It was fitting, somehow, that she was discovered because of the same thing that allowed her to hide before. Belle was still in the war room, but now only her father was there with her. And he was standing right in front of her. Something about his pose told her he wasn't pleased by the discovery.

"Ah, father, I'm sorry. I know I wasn't supposed to be here." She looked down, avoiding Maurice's eyes. She knew well enough that, while he loved his daughter, he didn't exactly approve of her more unladylike pursuits. Though this time, he knelt down to her level.

"Ah, dear Belle. I'm sorry you had to find out like this." The sudden remorse in his tone had Belle looking up at him. Unshed tears were highly contagious, she found out. "I wish I could've spent more time with you... I know I wasn't the best father after yo..." Belle had a feeling that she knew where this conversation was heading. And she wasn't ready for it. Not while she still had a trick up her sleeve. But of course, she'd never tell her father that. He had enough fear without the mention of magic already.

She shushed her father. “Father, I know you did your best. And you did well. Truthfully.” She leaned in to give him a hug. “I know you love me. I hope you know that as well.” A sigh of relief made her doubt that he did. “But, this is news that I have to process... And I need to do that on my own.” She thought she had gone too far with that. After all, even for her standards, this was really unladylike. But, once again, her father surprised her. “I understand, sweet Belle. You can go to your chambers. I’ll be in the library if you want to talk.”

Belle hugged her father again at that. He knew that she spoke most freely there, surrounded by the wise words of hundreds of men before her. She wanted to thank her father for this. For telling her he understood in a language she knew couldn’t be lied in... But she couldn’t find the words. 

Instead she opted for repaying his kindness with resolve to summon Rumplestiltskin. She was convinced, now more than ever, that he was the only one that could save them. She stood up, curtsying before her father, reassuring him that she’d come to him when she was ready, and scurried out of the room, wanting to reach hers as soon as possible.

Before Belle had walked out the door, her mind was set on summoning Rumplestiltskin that night. She was glad that she had had the foresight to collect all the obtainable items already, but she had the feeling that it was only now that she had access to a drop of blood of a desperate soul.

She was now close to her room, but fate had another way planned for her. She was, once again, too lost in planning thoughts to notice her surroundings. She was jarred out of these when a large, rough hand planted itself on her shoulder. She looked up to see Gaston leaning over her, with a strange, dark look set in his eyes.

“Belle,” he said, and Belle didn’t even have to try to smell the alcohol that was staining his breath.

“Gaston,” she answered coolly. She had hoped that her clipped tone made clear that she wasn’t interested in talking to him. Apparently, though, there was enough alcohol in his blood to make him deaf to the more fine nuances of a conversation.  
“Belle,” he continued, a slight groan underneath his breath, as the hand that lay on her shoulder tightened its grip ever so slightly. “I was thinking, right?”. He slurred out. He then paused, and Belle in the eyes, as if he was waiting for a sign to continue. Belle paused for a bit too, counting herself lucky that she was enough of a lady to keep herself from muttering: “Well, that’s a first.” underneath her breath that had entered her mind almost immediately. So she merely nodded slightly.

When Gaston still didn’t continue. Belle spoke out a weak yes. She wondered briefly just how drunk the man in front of her was, if he didn’t even see her nod. But then Gaston continued, breaking her out of her thinking. “And we have been fiancées for a long time.”. Again, all Belle could was speaking out an affirmative. “And we have only three nights left to live.”. 

Gaston’s hand started travelling down Belle’s shoulder, as she couldn’t suppress a shudder. To her surprise, Gaston smiled at that. “Ah, my fair lady already shakes with anticipation, I see.” Pride was more than clearly audible in his voice.

Belle bit her lip slightly, knowing it would give Gaston the bad impression, but it was all she could do to keep herself from blurting out: “Never with someone like you.”. She had never seen Gaston behaving in this manner before, and she was unwilling to find out how easily his temper was raised.

She braced herself for... For something. She was too inexperienced to know for what exactly.

Then all of sudden, Gaston turned sickly pale, stammering off, whispering something about having had too much ale. Little did either one know that there was someone else at play here.

Rumplestiltskin had been looking at the girl ever since she desperately thought out his name in the war room. He had a sense for these sort of things. He had to, otherwise he wouldn’t have been able to make as many deals as he has.

But the only thing that puzzled him was that they always seemed to know his name. He wasn’t sure how that worked, for even people from well-secluded places seemed to know it... But he was content to assume that it was due to coincidence and folklore.

But this was not the time to sink in thoughts. He observed the girl, Belle he believed the boy had called her, blink rapidly. As if she was trying to shake herself out of her stupor. Apparently she succeeded, for all of sudden her eyes cleared up, and determination shone through once more, as she set a fast pace. Rumplestiltskin followed her. He had to admit that he was curious about the girl. He knew what the deal would be about, but had no idea of what she was going to offer.

It was for this reason that he had gotten rid of the boy with a simple nausea spell. After all, no one interferes with a deal with him.

Belle entered a room, Rumplestiltskin following swiftly before it closed. He watched her as she went to kneel next to the bed, but he didn’t expect her to pull out his book. He couldn’t stop a gleeful little laugh at that.

Belle turned around. She knew she had heard something, but when she saw nothing, she uncomfortably wrote it off to her nerves. She had no time for fear now. She looked back to the book she was holding, and set out the rest of the ingredients, when she heard it again, albeit softer this time. She turned around.

“Rumplestiltskin?” She called out softly. She felt him before she saw him. A wave of something she couldn’t quite name washed over the room, filling it with a sort of heaviness she wasn’t accustomed too. It puzzled her enough to not be surprised by the appearance before her.

“Rumplestiltskin,” The man in front of her said, as he bowed deeply, albeit mockingly. His dragonskin cloak was the first thing she noticed about him. It had an aura of might, or danger. She then looked to the rest of the carefully positioned imp. She had the feeling that at least part of it was an act. She had read enough books to know that there was such a thing as a melodramatic villain.

He then giggled again, demanding her attention once more. Or maybe giggle wasn’t the right word, for there was something dark in there.

“I didn’t know that that book still existed.” He said, nonchalantly gesturing to the thing. Belle looked puzzled. “Of course it does.” She answered, “How else would anyone summon you, otherwise.”

Rumplestiltskin had to stifle another giggle as he saw the gi-, no, Belle, he decided, sounded far better, look confused. “Oh, but dearie... I wrote that book. It was a pun, a joke. A way of keeping me entertained.” He answered. He had been expecting that reaction.

Belle merely frowned. He hadn’t expected that reaction. “Well, since you’re here anyway then: Rumplestiltskin, I want to deal with you.” She said. ‘Do the brave thing and bravery’ will follow echoing in her mind. The very thing her mother used to say when she was little. It was a lesson she still kept close to heart.

She watched as Rumplestiltskin walked, no, stalked, for his gait surely had something predatory in it, towards her. A small smile fixed on his face as he went. “Yes, yes, for protection. I know.” He watched her closely for a reaction.

But Belle didn’t give him the pleasure. She was too focused on what had to be done, to let herself be distracted by how much he knew already. So she just nodded. “That’s right.” She said.

“And what are you offering in return?” Rumplestiltskin asked. Belle stayed silent, and he could practically hear her mind filtering for the right words.

“I’m willing to consider, and discuss the worth, of anything you propose.” She finally said. He didn’t know if he wanted to smirk or frown. Albeit interesting as she was, he could already tell she was a pain in the ass to deal with. He sighed, knowing he couldn’t say anything to go against those words, and nodded. “Let’s see what you have then, dearie.” He said, his voice sounded sure and powerful, but he wasn’t quite sure if he still held the reigns of this conversation.


End file.
